DANGEROUS BUSINESS
The lads encountered a crowd of nervous and excited passengers on the
stairs and were swept up with them and out on deck. By common instinct
the flow was toward port. A few hundred yards away, the lights of a
steamer, parallel with them, could be discerned. Signals were flashing,
bells clanging, and the clamor of the startled passengers pressing the
rail was deafening.
Bill gripped Osceola’s arm. “Let’s get out of this bedlam,” he shouted.
“The skipper is sure to be on the bridge—come along!”
Diving across the ship they ran forward on the opposite deck and up the
stair to the bridge. Baron von Hiemskirk stood with a pair of night
glasses trained on the stranger across the water. Near him a group of
white uniformed ship’s officers conversed in whispers. He lowered the
binoculars as Bill and Osceola approached and rendered them a stiff
salute.
“Good evening again, gentlemen. Thank you for your promptness. Chief
Osceola, I want you and Lieutenant Schneider to go aft and quiet that
rabble. Explain to the passengers that there is no cause for alarm. Tell
them also in my name that unless they go at once to their cabins, they
will be sent there forcibly.”
Osceola and the Lieutenant saluted and departed on their errand.
“Now, gentlemen,” continued the Baron, “as several of you already know,
I have been aware for some time that we were overhauling that ship we
see out there. Had she obeyed our signals and those of the _Flying
Fish_, there would have been no need to waste shell fire on her. You
will be interested to learn that she is the _Blake_ of Cardiff, loaded
with twenty-five hundred tons of coal—enough to keep us going for a week
at good speed, or two weeks at low speed. Tomorrow morning, we will
start coaling, and for the next few days, every one of us will be
especially busy. Those of you who are not on duty, will please me by
turning in at once, and getting a good night’s rest. Good night,
gentlemen.”
Back in his cabin, Bill undressed and got into bed. He was lying there,
with the lights burning, thinking over the day’s events, when Osceola
came in.
He tossed his cap on the lounge, and began to unbutton his blouse.
“Well, we got the sheep herded into their respective barns. Did you find
out anything about that ship?”
Bill told him what the Baron had said. “Filthy business, coaling,” he
ended with a yawn.
“It will be interesting to find out how they work it at sea, especially
when we’ve got at least one warship on our trail.”
“I don’t think the Baron’s worrying about the _Stamford_. We’ve changed
our course at least twice in the last few hours. It’s a big ocean,
Osceola.”
“Guess so. And some queer people on it. The noble Baron makes me laugh.
He’s probably the greatest thief unhung, yet he purposely chatted with
us and the other officers after dinner, on the side of the deck away
from this collier, so that we would go to bed early and get a good
night’s rest.”
“He’s an odd beggar, all right,” yawned Bill. “Switch off the light, and
hop into that bed of yours, big boy, or I’ll be talking in my sleep.”
A steward called them at five next morning. By five-thirty they had
dressed in uniform cap and dungarees, breakfasted and were out on deck.
The collier was now steaming slowly alongside the big liner. The ships
were kept together by a hawser across the lips of the _Amtonia’s_ bows,
supplemented by a few lines across her poop; and a speed of two miles an
hour was being maintained by both vessels. This kept their noses
together. It also gave them a certain steadiness in the choppy sea that
ran this morning. Above all, it kept the pirate ship constantly
prepared, steamed up in readiness to dash away in case an enemy cruiser
appeared. The lads noted that at each of the cables which held the
vessels together, a man was stationed, ax in hand, to cut the strands
should the emergency arise.
Bill and Osceola soon found that preparations for coaling on the high
seas had already been made. Through the decks of the _Amtonia_ the
carpenters had cut large circular holes, one directly beneath the other.
In these openings, ship’s ventilator tubes were at that moment being
inserted. They were then spliced together in such a manner that coal
dumped on to the deck merely had to be pushed into the tubes to slide
swiftly down into the bunkers.
Three temporary derricks had been erected, one fore, another amidships,
and one aft, all electrically equipped. Bill was presently put in charge
of the fore derrick, while Osceola crossed over to the collier, where he
helped to superintend the loading of sacks and baskets with coal. These
when filled were transferred from the _Blake’s_ derricks to those of the
liner, in midair. The coal was then unloaded on the _Amtonia’s_ deck and
shoveled into the tubes by the crew.
As the sun grew higher, the weather became increasingly hotter. So hot
was this work of coaling that the men were soon working clad only in
pantaloons, cut short like boys’ trousers, or even in tights. There were
no feminine eyes about, for all passengers were being kept below, so
that occasionally the scanty loincloths were cast aside and the men
worked naked. Covered from head to foot with sweat and coal dust, they
soon looked like gangs of negroes. The officers fared quite as badly,
for, though they were spared manual labor and so did not discard their
uniforms, they soon became as grimy as the men and fully as
uncomfortable.
Work was carried forward night and day, in alternate watches. To Bill it
became a nightmare of heat and sweat and coal dust. The ship, usually so
immaculate, took on the appearance of a coalyard, and the fine black
dust filtered into even the remotest nooks and crannies. When relieved
of duty, the black counterpart of that smart young Lieutenant Bolton
would satisfy his hunger at a buffet, get under a shower and then to
bed. Here, between coal dust coated sheets, he would snatch a few hours
sleep—then hurry above for his next trick at the derrick. He began to
find out that the life of an officer aboard this pirate craft was not
the bed of roses it had first appeared to be. As Osceola worked and ate
and slept on board the _Blake_, the two saw nothing of each other.
Late in the afternoon of the third day, the last of the twenty-five
hundred tons of coal was transferred and shovelled down the chutes. Bill
saw to the taking down of his derrick and then went below to his cabin,
thankful that the dirty job had come to an end. He was getting out of
filthy clothes when Osceola walked in.
“Coolheavers ahoy!” he greeted. “I’m one black warrior, if you ask me.”
“And I’ve had pleasanter jobs.”
“Oh, you’ve had a nice, comfortable deck to work on,” returned the
Chief, diving into the bathroom. “You’ve nothing to complain about. I
haven’t had these clothes off since the day before yesterday! Been
working down in the hold of that collier at a temperature that blew the
top off our thermometer.” His voice was drowned by the sound of the
shower.
“That is tough! I missed you, old fellow. Where did you sleep?”
“Where did I sleep!” spluttered the Chief. “Not in a downy white bed
like you—you son of luxury! I slept, or rather, I tried to sleep in a
ship’s hammock!”
Bill chuckled, and began to unlace his shoes. “Pretty difficult to
navigate until you get on to them. Hard to get into—”
“Harder still to stay put when you’re once in the darned thing!
Gosh-all-hemlock, this water is sure a sweet, cool dream, of Paradise!
Let me tell you that my hammock had to be slung between-decks—iron
decks, at that. Sleep! I’ve forgotten what it is. Every time I moved in
that hammock, the confounded thing dumped me onto that dirty iron deck
with a jar that nearly split my head! Push that bell for a steward,
please. I want food and plenty of it, and I’m going to eat it in my
comfortable bed. Then, I’m going to sleep _and_ sleep until tomorrow
morning.”
“Oh, no, you’re not,” said Bill.
“And who says so?”
“Have your supper, by all means, and have it in bed if you like—but you
and I have a date.”
“Date nothing! Keep it yourself. I’m only a poor Indian pirate. Neither
am I popular with first class passengers.”
“Perhaps not—but this date isn’t with a passenger.”
“Who then?”
“Have you forgotten the wireless operator?”
“Gosh! Do you have to pull that stunt tonight? I’m half dead.”
“So are a few other people. That’s why I’m going to pull it off tonight.
Snap out of it, old man. The fortunes, if not the lives of a lot of
people depend on what we’re able to accomplish.”
“Well, what are we going to do? You never have spilled that plan of
yours. Not to me, anyhow.” He came into the cabin, drying himself with a
bath towel.
“You order your chow,” suggested Bill. “If you haven’t used all the hot
water aboard ship, I want to get under that shower myself. When I’m
dressed and you’re in your right mind, I’ve got to hunt up Charlie and
see what he’s found out. We’ll be back later and I’ll explain the job in
detail.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door after him to cut
short further argument. It was after seven o’clock by the time Bill was
dressed and ready to go on deck. He knew that Charlie would be in the
passengers’ dining salon, and that was out of bounds for the ship’s
officers. So leaving Osceola attending to a substantial dinner in bed,
he went above to the Palm Garden, where the officers’ mess was held.
It was not a talkative crowd at dinner that evening. Every man at the
table was dog tired and conversation flagged in consequence. The meal
with its many courses seemed interminable to Bill. When at last it was
over, he excused himself, while the others were smoking cigars and
sipping liqueurs and went in search of young Evans.
Weary sailors were hard at work with hose and swabs on the promenade
deck, getting rid of the accumulated grime of the coaling. Bill took a
turn round to the opposite side of the ship, where he encountered a
similar gang at work, but found no passengers about. Charlie was not in
the smoking room. Eventually he found him, listening to the orchestra,
which was playing in the lounge.
Without appearing to recognize the youngster, he caught his eye as he
sauntered past, surreptitiously crooked a finger and went down to his
cabin. There he found Osceola fast asleep in his bed, with all lights
burning. He was wondering whether he should wake him then and there, or
let him sleep, when Charlie softly opened the door and entered.
Bill put a hand up for silence, and led him into the bathroom. “Better
let the poor Chief get some rest,” he said, closing the door. “He’s been
going it night and day aboard that collier. He needs the sleep.”
“Well, I don’t, that’s a cinch! We’ve been kept off the decks ever since
you fellows started coaling, and sleep was the only thing left to do.
Say—did you see the _Blake_ go down?”
“No. I was sure they’d sink her, though, for the Baron told me he was
going to take her captain and crew aboard the _Amtonia_ and dispose of
her as soon as we got her coal. When did it happen?”
“Just before dinner—about quarter to seven.”
“I was cleaning up in here then.”
“Well, I got a peach of a view from the smoking room windows, with Dad’s
field glasses. They cut the ropes and she drifted away from us. It
wasn’t five minutes later, when she gave a great lurch and went down bow
first. It certainly is a crime, the way the Baron sinks good ships. I
guess he had dynamite planted on board just like he did with the
_Merrymaid_.”
“Very likely. But there’s nothing we can do about it, Charlie. Not yet
awhile. But tell me, what have you found out about that wireless room?”
“Well, since that first evening when we captured the _Blake_, I haven’t
been able to get up there. But I did manage to get in soon after the
gunfire that night. I copped a couple of Dad’s cigars and gave ’em to
the guy who was on duty. These Heinies are a leadpipe cinch to kid. He
isn’t such a bad guy at that—showed me the whole business—everything he
had. I began to think he’s a swell fellow even if he is a pirate. I got
a book on telegraphy out of the library and I’ve been boning up on the
Morse Code ever since. That and sleeping. Say, I bet I could send a
message now. Receiving’s not so easy, though.”
“Never mind that—”
“But I’m sure I can, Bill—”
“All right—I believe you—but lay off it. I want the dope first. How many
operators does this ship run to? Did you find that out?”
“Yep. There’s three of ’em.”
“How long are their watches?”
“Four hours each. But sometimes they’re on for eight hours.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there are two on duty daytimes—”
“Never mind that either—I’m not interested in their complete schedule.
How many operators are in the wireless room now?”
“Only one. He’s doing his trick from eight till midnight.”
“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. How about from midnight on?”
“Another guy comes on duty then.”
“For how long?”
“Till eight in the morning.”
“He’s alone all that time? Are you sure?”
“Yes. The other two lads relieve him then.”
“Do you know the operator who will go on at twelve tonight?”
“Well, I’m not sure. They vary their watches, you know.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Bill said to himself. “Tell me, is the
door kept locked?”
“No, but they generally keep it shut.”
“Does the night operator sit facing it?”
“No. His back is toward the door.”
“Then that window in the wireless house must be to his right when he’s
sending or receiving?”
“Yes, and it’s sure to be open now.”
“Thanks, Charlie. You’ve done splendidly. Run along to bed now. Osceola
and I will attend to your friend later.”
Charlie’s face fell. “Aren’t you going to let me in on this?” he
pleaded. “Oh, Bill, gee—I did all the work and you two are going to have
all the fun!”
“Not much fun about it.” Bill grinned and was silent for a minute.
“Well, I reckon we can use you. But you must remember that this is a
very serious and dangerous business, Charlie. If anything goes wrong,
von Hiemskirk is quite likely to have us shot out of hand. You’ll have
to obey orders to the letter, and take no chances.”
“All right, Bill, of course, I will.”
“Okay. Then go to your cabin and turn in. And be back here at one
o’clock sharp.”
Charlie’s face was transformed with joy. “Thanks, Bill!”
“Run along now,” directed the older lad. “I’ve got a lot to do before
then. And be sure nobody sees you going or coming.”
“They won’t!” promised the youngster. “Say, are we going to shoot this
operator?”
“Certainly not, you bloodthirsty wretch. None of us will have guns.
Neither Osceola nor I have one.”
“What _are_ we going to do then?”
“Obey orders, kid. Get out of here now—I’m busy!”